Title: No Hard Feelings
It had been a lousy day, even before Jeff got the call. His head hurt from the last several weeks of Vancouver rain, he missed his dog, and he was feeling officially too old to get bounced off walls and run circles around by his damn costars. Even getting the call from Eric telling him that he had the night to himself (some freak accident involving cream cheese, instant coffee and the exhaust pipe of one of the Impalas; Jeff figured it was better not to ask) didnít ease Jeffís feeling of being rubbed the wrong damn way.
And then his phone rang, Jared babbled about reshoots and interrupted blowjobs, and six feet of very pretty trouble wound up at the door of Jeffís hotel room. Again.
For a long minute, Jeff leaned against the doorframe and looked at Jensen, with his shot pupils and his unsteady breathing, and thought seriously about just telling Jen to fuck off home and take care of things himself.
Jensen mustíve read frustration on him, because he shifted his weight on his feet and gave that slow, devastating smile. "Jeff," he murmured, without ever sounding seriously concerned that Jeff might just toss him on his ass, cocky bastard, "címon, man. Iíll make it worth your while. Just-"
"Youíd better," Jeff muttered, and stood aside to hold the door open. "Well?"
To Jensenís credit, he didnít smirk. He stepped inside and stood firmly in the circle of Jeffís personal space. There was rain in his hair, on the back of his neck. Up close, Jeff could smell the leather of his coat and a hint of Jaredís aftershave.
Jeff nudged the door shut and laid a hand on Jensenís belly, forestalling any pouncing that Jensen might have planned. When Jensen started to reach out, Jeff cleared his throat.
"Problem, Morgan?" Jensen asked mildly, letting his hands drop and hang loose at his sides. Jensenís body under Jeffís hand was strung like tight wire, humming with tension that didnít show on his face.
"If I kissed you, Iíd taste Jared." The tight twitch of muscle under Jeffís hand made him smile. He pressed, steering Jensen back until his shoulders hit the wall. Satisfied, Jeff let his hand drop. "You come over here and expect me to hold your hand all night? Call you sweetheart?"
Jensen eyed him, then laid his head back to bare the long, clean line of his throat. It looked less submissive than indolent, and the smirk hit Jeff somewhere low. "Itís not my hand Iím-"
It was easy, simple, right, for Jeff to rest his hand against the pulse in Jensenís throat, to collar Jensen with his fingers and feel him tense up. The shiver rolled through Jensen, each breath shallow even though Jeff knew his grip was loose. Jensenís stare couldíve scorched, hunger and anger. When Jeff reached down to unbutton his own jeans, Jensen twitched and wet his lower lip.
"Cock-hungry slut," Jeff murmured. Cupping his fingers over where his dick pressed against his jeans, Jeff rubbed lightly with his fingertips. Felt Jensen swallow. "You want this?"
"Gonna make me jump through hoops?" Jensen asked, an edge to his voice.
"If you donít like it, the doorís right there." Jeff let him go, knowing itíd unbalance him even before he saw that Jensen had been leaning into the pressure of his hand. Jensen steadied himself fast, but not quite fast enough. Jeffís fingers felt hot, and he flexed them at his side. His voice came out husky. "Otherwise, yeah, youíll do what I say."
Jensen looked away, stared at the door for a long few seconds. His jaw was a hard, tight line beside the lewd softness of his mouth. And God, the things Jeff wanted to do to him would scare the straight, uptight choirboy right back into him.
"Yeah," Jensen said finally, and glanced at Jeff through his eyelashes. "Fine."
"Good boy," Jeff drawled. If Jensenís glare couldnít kill, it wasnít for lack of trying. Jeff patted his stomach again and turned away. Went back to the bed, still littered with scripts and his pack of smokes, and sat on the edge of it. He stretched his legs out, tapped the pack into his palm and glanced up as the sound made Jensen twitch. With a slow smile, Jeff gave his full attention to pulling out a cigarette. "You coming over here or not?"
With a few long strides, Jensen was in front of him. He looked kind of pissed about it until Jeff saw the slow heat rising in his face, along his throat.
"Strip." The word hung quiet in between them. The room was too damned quiet, suddenly, punctuated only by the patter of the rain against the windows, their breathing, Jeffís voice.
Quick study, Jensen, because he didnít try to sit on the bed. He bent, undid the laces of his boots and kicked them off. Leather slithered as Jensen shrugged out of his jacket and slung it onto the roomís single chair, then reached briskly for the buttons of his shirt.
"Slower," Jeff said, and leaned his elbows on his knees. "I said strip, boy, not tear your damn clothes off."
Jensen shot him a hard, incredulous look. Jeff met it, silently raising his eyebrows, and let his smile edge into a grin.
"Kinky fucker," Jensen muttered finally, and moved his hands again to the buttons of his shirt. "Jesus, Jeff, got a pole and a jukebox handy?"
"Thereís a cd player if youíre that het up." Jeff nodded at the clock radio on the table by the bed. Heíd dragged it from home, too paranoid to trust hotel clocks or their soundproofing. "Driver picks the music."
"Hey, asshole, Iím the one whoíll end up with the dollars in my g-string." Jensen folded his arms, impatiently drumming his fingers. The look faltered as Jeff set his cigarette in the ashtray, then stretched back to prod at the radio until he got it where he wanted. Jensen cleared his throat, not quite managing not to stare at Jeffís thighs. "Havenít you heard of an iPod?"
"Bite me, junior. Some of us are careful with our damn money." Jeff paused, listening for a moment as the first track came on. Midnight jazz; all right, then. Sitting up, he grabbed the cigarette again and said, "Well?"
There was a moment where Jensen just looked at him, pride warring with everything else. Then he gave Jeff a lopsided smile and rolled his shoulders back, getting comfortable. "Pervert," he said softly, and brought his hands to the buttons of his shirt again. "You just going to sit there?"
"Lazy bastard." One button undone, Jensen glanced up at Jeff. Then he blew out a breath and brought his feet a little wider apart. The first rock of his hips was self-conscious, and he watched Jeff like he thought he was going to get hysterical laughter. "I donít do this."
"You do now. Quit trying to get out of it."
Jensen muttered, but seemed to settle more into it. He slid into a subtle rhythm, lashes heavy on his cheeks, mouth relaxing slowly. It wasnít dancing (because damn, Jensen sucked at that unless you were talking the tight press of bodies, hands everywhere and hips grinding and no space for the Holy Spirit between them), just the slow play of muscle under his skin, the glide of his hands over his shirt, over his hips.
Resting his elbows on his knees, Jeff savored his cigarette and the view. When the music switched over, Jensen didnít pause as he looked up at Jeff for a cue.
Jeff dropped his eyes to the button of Jensenís jeans and grinned as Jensen caught on, undoing just that before going back to his shirt. Jeff had meant to keep this distant, to make Jensen work for it. Meant to tear a strip out of Jensen the second he came through Jeffís door. But things with Jen never worked out the way Jeff planned.
The gray light of the rain cast shadows across the room, across Jensenís lean body. He slid out of his shirt, let it drop, and skimmed his fingers down to trace the waistband of his jeans.
There were bruises where the harnesses rode and cut into him, where heíd taken a headlong fall into something or other. Jensen never bitched about them, said heíd been in the business too long, but Jeff saw otherwise. Saw the way Jensenís touch lingered over a bruise above his hipbone now, his eyes distant for a second.
Then Jensenís hands were drifting again, dragging down the zipper. It was the longest few seconds of Jeffís life, hearing those metal teeth part, seeing the bare skin of his stomach and the black of Jensenís boxers. Jensen hooked his thumbs under his jeans and pushed them down, boxers and jeans at once. His cock was hard, hard as hell, the tip slick and begging for a touch.
Jeff kept his expression impassive as he asked, "That for me or for Jared, Jensen?"
Jensen didnít flinch. He bent, sliding the jeans down and stepping out of them. Stood there just in socks, ridiculously cute, and said, "Itís for you, Morgan. Donít be an asshole."
"Show me, then. Touch your cock for me." Jeff dragged his eyes down Jensen, taking him in. "Howíd you suck him, boy? Slow? Did you make him beg you for it?"
"No." Jensen wet his lips again. His fingers curled around his cock, and the shiver rippled through him. "Slow, yeah, but-"
"Did he put his hand in your hair?" Jeff lowered his eyelashes and let his mouth linger suggestively over the end of the cigarette. "Did you let him fuck your mouth?"
Shaking his head, Jensen tightened his grip and hissed softly, rocking forward into his hand. "Jeff-"
"Did you want him to?" Jeff asked mildly. "To just put you on your knees and use you hard?"
"No." There was a fine tremor starting in Jensenís thighs. Jensenís throat worked as he swallowed, his eyes hot on Jeffís. "No."
The day was looking so much better already.
Jeff ground out his cigarette in the ashtray. Then he reached down, unbuttoned his jeans and slid his hand inside. At the first touch, Jeff had to set his jaw and still his wrist. Jensen made a strangled noise, his eyes darting from Jeffís face to his lap.
"Come here and kiss me," Jeff said, too damned softly. "Pretty little whore."
There was only a thin rim of green around the absolute black of Jensenís pupils. Jeff purred his approval as Jensen prowled to him, bending down until their faces nearly touched.
Jensen said darkly, "Who the fuck are you calling a whore?"
Jeff curled his hand around the back of Jensenís neck, bringing their mouths together. He could still taste Jared, the distant tang of salt and bitterness. His dick twitched, interested. So Jeff kissed him, slow and hot and deep, smiling as unsteady hands locked on his arms like Jensen thought he was drowning.
Between kisses, Jeff pulled back to growl, "You like it, Jen. Thatís what you want from me. You want me to treat you like-" Jensen grabbed him at that point, their teeth clicking as Jensen kissed him fast and vicious. Jeff put his hands on Jensenís hips and pulled him onto his lap, Jensen straddling him, and Jensen ground down against him and shuddered hard. Jeff licked his mouth and purred, "Like a whore. You want me to use you like one, because I can, because youíll let me, wonít you? Hell, youíll beg for it with that sweet ass in the air-"
Jensen bit Jeffís lip. Jeff shifted his grip on Jensen, digging his fingers into Jensenís hips. Jensen arched, pressing into the ache, his head falling back. "Yes. God, Jeff, do you ever shut up?"
Pressing his thumbs into the wells of Jensenís hipbones, Jeff nipped the ridge of Jensenís collarbone. Then he rolled with Jensen onto the mess of papers and tangled bedspread, leaning down to lick the sweat-flavored hollow of Jensenís throat. It took Zen-master style concentration to pull back, but Jeff managed, bracing himself on either side of Jensen. He had one foot still on the floor, his clothes still on, and a suddenly violent need to fuck Jensen into next week.
"Roll over," Jeff said, barely audible. "Hold yourself open for me."
Jensen opened his mouth to make protesting noises, shut it sharply and rolled the hell over. He hesitated for a second, his fingers knotting and unknotting in the bedspread, then pressed his face against the pillows and reached down. His fingers pressed against the fine, fine swell of his ass and spread.
Licking his fingertips, Jeff lightly pressed them against Jensen and rubbed. Jensen jerked like heíd been shot, shifting to spread his thighs and move against Jeffís hand.
"Pretty thing," Jeff said, reaching with his free hand for the lube heíd started carrying in his wallet the week he met Jensen. He cracked the plastic and wet his fingers, then pressed the palm of his hand into the small of Jensenís back. Pinned him there and heard the muffled noise Jensen made into the pillow. "You getting it now? You get what Iím fucking well telling you?"
The sound went sharp as Jeff slid two fingers in deep, no warning. Jensen bucked against his hand, his spine bowing as he struggled to hold still. "Oh- oh, fuck, Jeff- burns- yeah-"
Rotating his wrist a little, Jeff crooked his fingers and pressed. His heart was pounding in his head, in his throat.
Jensen hitched, full-body, and went silent. Then he shivered and moved back against Jeffís hand, trying to fuck himself on Jeffís fingers.
"God, youíre shaking," Jeff murmured. Nudging another fingertip against Jensen, he pushed it in slow, inexorable. "Fucking love feeling you around my fingers, Jen."
"Bastard," Jensen breathed, shuddering as his body yielded. "Oh god, just fuck me, you evil son of a bitch."
"Iím wounded." Jeff curled his fingers again, rubbing slow circles against the prostate. He could feel the tension coil through Jensen, feel the rocking of his body back into Jeffís hand change to something rhythmic. Bending, he bit the curve where Jensenís thigh met his ass and pressed deeper, harder. "You know," Jeff said, and swallowed. "You know one of these nights youíre going to take my hand."
Jensen froze, not even breathing. Then he trembled under Jeffís hand and raised his head to look at him with wide, feral eyes. Heíd been biting the hell out of his lip; it was bruised.
"Mm," Jeff said, amused. He pressed a fourth finger against the other three, just resting, and watched Jensen fight between moving into it and punching him. "You been thinking about that?"
"Your handís huge, you freak. I-" Jensen blinked, staring at Jeffís free hand with something between horror and interest. "Okay, yeah, I thought about it."
"You jerked off," Jeff murmured. "You slid your fingers inside and thought about my fist- are you blushing?"
"No, you asshole!"
"Sure." Stroking the spattering of freckles in the dip of Jensenís spine, Jeff dropped his voice. "Let me and itíll be good, baby. Might take hours. Youíll be so goddamn strung out. Youíll beg me for it before weíre done. Iíll even light a few candles and put on some Manilow."
Jensen laughed and dropped his head, pressing his hot face back into the pillow. It was a good, easy sound, that laugh, and Jeff wanted to bottle it up somewhere and keep it. "Donít threaten me. Come on. Iíll let you do whatever you want, just-"
"Yeah," Jeff growled, and bit a mark high on the back of Jensenís thigh.
With a groan, Jensen ground into the bed. "Want your cock tonight. I-" As Jeff slid his fingers out all at once, Jensen hitched all over. His voice came low and urgent, drawled honey sweet and thick against the spit-damp pillow. "Want you in me, fucking me, want you to come on me, want your hand, want-"
"Hell," Jeff swore, and grabbed Jensenís hip with one hand. With the other, he guided the head of his cock to glide slick along the valley of Jensenís ass. Jensenís fingertips bumped him, and Jensen honest-to-God purred. Choked on it a second later as Jeff pushed just inside him. Gritting his teeth, Jeff slid deep. With one foot still on the floor, he had the leverage to throw his weight behind the first thrust.
"Oh," Jensen gasped, and shoved back into him. "Ohh, god."
"Whore," Jeff panted fondly, and gave it to him. Hard, deep, fast. No mercy. Jensen slapped both hands on the bed and scrabbled, moving with Jeff like he had no spine, the tight-hot grip of his body almost painful. It wouldnít last, Jeff could feel it coiling at the base of his spine, the sweat gathering on Jenís side as he shivered and twisted. Jeff dug his nails in on Jensenís hipbone and snarled, "Think I donít own you?"
Jensen yowled, bit his lip a little too late, nodded fast. The back of his neck gleamed wet, his hair spiking dark in places. Jeff could hear the slap of skin, the distant irregular thump of the headboard. Jensen squirmed, trying to slide a hand under himself. Bending over him, Jeff bit the underside of his shoulderblade and grinned against him as the change in angle made Jensen go rigid and suddenly silent.
"Not touching your cock," Jeff said, "you come from this. Let it go, sweetheart, I got you now."
Jensen grabbed fistfuls of bedspread and just gripped, white-knuckled. A few more thrusts and Jensen thrashed beneath him, all shallow gasps and wild jerks of his hips in Jeffís hands. He keened as he tightened around Jeff. Jeff thought distantly of his neighbors, grabbed Jensenís hair and dragged his head back anyway as Jeff fucked him through his orgasm. It was too late to stop, or even to slow down. Jeff drove into him hard, again, again, until Jensen was nearly sobbing for air even as he yielded and pushed back and took.
"Yeah," Jeff breathed, "good, youíre so good, youÖ" and came shuddering hard. His brain futzed out on him, a long shivering while of sweat and Jensenís shoulder between his teeth.
He crumpled on Jen, sparing a distracted thought for physics, and figured that as long as Jensen was still breathing they were okay. Jensen was warm, boneless. Thereíd be bruises on his shoulders. Jeff kissed them and felt Jensen shift drowsily. Knew that if he moved off and slid out, Jensen would be headed for the door. So Jeff kept him comfortably pinned, nuzzling his shoulder as he murmured, "You good?"
Jensen rumbled, "Dunno. You going to piss on me next?"
"Didnít figure on it."
"You want me to stop fucking Jared?"
"No. I know where youíll end up."
"Hm," Jensen replied. He tightened around Jeff, experimentally, and gave a last shiver. "Christ, makeupíll kill you. I should go."
"Iíve got ESPN." Jeff rolled, taking Jensen with him, and tugged the bedspread over them both. "Stay. Nap. Iíll buy you dinner."
"Youíve got problems," Jensen said mildly, and pressed back into Jeff. "All right."